


Cold house, Colder Hands

by BlooBlu



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Death, Kindof it ends happy i swear, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 17:37:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21305948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlooBlu/pseuds/BlooBlu
Summary: A one-shot based off of literallyglitchn's  Sanders Sides Ghost Au on Tumblr!Literally none of this belongs to me but the writing itself. I've just been on Tumblr a lot lately and got inspired.Here's the link to their tumblr!http://literallyglitchn.tumblr.com
Kudos: 13





	Cold house, Colder Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [ss ghost au](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/531713) by literallyglitchn. 

It's cold. Really cold.

Virgil was used to feeling cold spots in his house. Ever since he and his parents had moved here, stuff was weird. Cold in random places, but never the _same_ places, lights flickering or even just shutting off completely with a startling *pop*.   
Definitely haunted, if you ask him. But his mom had fallen in love with the place so here they were. Well. He wouldn't be, soon. 

He was laying in bed, staring up at his ceiling and waiting until he could fall asleep and not wake up again. Pop always has a bunch of pain medication in the bathroom, 'cause he messed his shoulder up a long time ago and says it's too expensive to get surgery.  
Virgil supposed he should be sorry, his dad needs these pills a lot more than he does. But at the moment he can't really feel anything but cold. So, so cold. Why did his room have to go cold _now?_ Some poetic shit, probably. Some reason that sounds all cute on paper but he wouldn't understand. Eh. English was never his favorite subject, anyways.

…

How long was this supposed to take? Had he not taken enough of the pills? It was like half a bottle! Maybe. He can't remember.  
He's slipping. Virgil knows he's falling apart at the edges. Turning blurry and grey. Melting into his bed covers.   
_Just blink._ Blink and it'll be over, he thinks. Blink and you will fade away. Be happy, 'cause there'll be nothing left to be sad or angry about.

….just… close your eyes…. 

And fade. 

///

He feels gone. He's still on his bed but he can't really _feel_ it. The cold is gone, like there was never any air in the first place. He breathes in, and finds that the air around him doesn't move. Doesn't flow willingly back into his lungs.  
It's not like a panic attack, it's not a failure of his own systems that prevent air from flowing through him. He's making the motions, contracting all the right muscles, _he's sure of it._  
It's like he just isn't there enough, isn't enough at all, to move even the air anymore.

There's a sound at his side. Like a sad, lonely sigh.

"Hey kiddo. How are you feeling?"

"Patton, maybe it's best if we give him a moment-"

… 

"Wh… who are you guys?"

///

He's not cold anymore. Not anything, really. His parents moved away not long after he died, and all of his stuff was shoved into a few boxes in a storage unit.  
Virgil's not quite warm yet, and maybe he'll never be, now. But he's not alone, at least, and somehow that's more comforting than it should be. Ghosts become less scary when you are one, he supposed.


End file.
